Alone With My thoughts
by Winter
Summary: A young wolf lies in his cockpit, alone, waiting to die.


Alone with my thoughts  
  
By Edward "Winter" Weldon  
  
The stars wheel and spin. No, it's me who is spinning. I must have blacked out again. I'm sitting in   
the cockpit of a ship of some kind. It's laid out in a couch and canopy set up, with the controls on   
both side of me and multifunction displays above my head and at my feet. I look around me, out of   
the canopy. Lifting my head is difficult but I manage all the same.   
  
My ship is larger than a fighter, it has or rather had a pair of engine nacelles on either side of the   
fuselage with missile pods slung under them and guns set in pairs on the sides and top of the hull. A   
gunship maybe?   
  
My ship is spinning end over end; the downward force is enough to create the equivalent of about   
two thirds normal gravity inside the cockpit. One of the nacelles has been blown off and sheared   
away messily leaving a jagged mess of metal where it would have been attached. I can't see past   
either the remaining nacelle or the ruined one so I can't tell how badly the rest of the ship is   
damaged or even what the tail end looks like.  
  
I can't remember what happened or what I'm doing here. I…I can't even remember who I am. Then   
I catch a glimpse of myself reflected in the canopy. There's a cut above my right eye, the blood   
running down and soaking into the grey fur on the side of my face and staining the white stripe that   
runs between my eyes.   
  
How long have I been here? Hours? Days? Its cold in here, and I'm parched with thirst. My body   
feels like lead and my head hurts. The only thing I can hear is my own breathing. My hands are still   
clenched around the joystick and throttle controls. Useless as it is, my hands are simply too cold to   
prise off, the mussels in my fingers locked.   
  
All I can do is stare out into space and watch the stars tumble by. Then I see it, a planet. The planet   
is a cool pastel green colour, covered with oceans and thousand of small island chains. The white   
clouds swirl in one part. From here I would guess that a storm is brewing down there. Then it is   
gone; my ship has turned away from it. My head and eyelids get heavy and I black out again.  
  
I awaken some time later. How long was I out for this time? Does it really matter? My head hurts   
even more this time and it's getting harder to breath. One of the MFDs on my left is flashing. I stare   
at it, the glare from the screen hurts my eyes but that's of little consequence to me now.   
  
The computer informs me that cabin pressure has just dropped another o.5/PSI in the last hour.   
There must be a slow leak in the cockpit somewhere. It must have happened when, when…What   
happened to me?  
  
I can barely feel my legs and tail now. The cold has made my whole body numb. I haven't even the   
energy to lift my head to the stars anymore. So I study the details of my own body.   
  
I'm wearing a black flight suit. The only light in the cockpit is from the one working MFD, but   
even by the pale flickering light from the display I can see well enough. As far as I can tell, there   
aren't any markings or insignia on my suit. Strapped to my leg there is a heavy blaster pistol and a   
combat knife. Despite the numbness, from the way the suit fits my body, I'd guess I had a light,   
slender frame. But right now, I'm dying. Alone.  
  
I drift back to consciousness again. The green ocean planet is closer this time. I must have been   
caught in its gravity well. The pressure in side the cabin has dropped right down. My chest feels   
tight, like its bound with leather straps. My breathing is an erratic wheezing now.   
  
I look at the planet again and force a smile across my lips. That turbulent green orb just became my   
only hope. I have no idea how long I have been drifting, but I'm certain I'm drifting towards the   
planet. With any luck if the planet is inhabited I may be detected and rescued. Or maybe I'll simply   
fall into the atmosphere and be incinerated. Either way at least I won't be cold anymore. My feeble   
attempt at self-humour is rewarded with a hacking fit. I look down at the chest of my flight suit. It's   
covered with blood.   
  
I can't see anymore. I sure my eyes are open, I can feel them blink, but I still see nothing but   
darkness. The dull thumping aches in my head and the sharp constricting pain in my chest seem to   
have run together. My whole body is racked with pain. I can't even hear my own breath any more.   
But I welcome the pain. It means that I'm still alive.  
  
The only other sensation I feel is the coppery taste of blood in my mouth. The pain in my chest and   
the blood I'm coughing up periodically would indicate that blood vessels in my lungs are bursting   
from lack of pressure. Chances are my nose is bleeding too. From my reflection, I thought that I   
was quite handsome. What kind of monster must I look like now?  
  
I don't know whether or not I've blacked out again or not. Every thing is black to me now, but at   
last I can hear something again. The droning monotone voice of the computer keeps repeating that   
cabin pressure just dropped to critical. It's only a matter of time now. Now it's just a case what kills   
me first. The extreme cold, the lack of pressure or maybe I'll just quietly drown on my own blood.   
  
My hearing is finally going. My body is shutting down; it's given up. And I am afraid. Afraid of   
what awaits me on the other side of the darkness. That I may be judged for a life I don't remember.   
Or that I will pass into eternity alone, no one to guide me.   
  
The computer's warnings are just a buzzing now. The taste of blood in my mouth has gone, but the   
pain remains. Wait, the buzzing just changed. The tone has altered, but I still can't make it out.   
Then I feel the thump. I can feel a current of warmth blow over me for a moment. Voices, frantic   
voices wash over me. Then everything fades away.  
  
I'm surrounded by warmth. The pain in my chest is gone, but the thud in my head still lingers. I'm   
pretty sure that I'm upright. Not standing, floating. I feel bubbles float past my fur, lifting my tail   
and wafting my hair like seaweed.  
  
There is a feeling like that of ice thawing. It spreads out from my torso, along my limbs. I can hear   
myself breathing again. Much louder than before. There is a mask clamped over my muzzle,   
feeding me oxygen.  
  
Slowly I open my eyes. The fluid in the tank stings them for a moment, but they soon adjust. I'm   
suspended in a glass cylinder of some kind of solution. I'm only wearing a pair of boxer shorts. My   
upper torso and left arm are tracked with old scars. They look like burn marks. They're partly   
obscured by my fur but they're still visible.  
  
I look out of the tank. I'm definitely in a sickbay of some kind. There's someone else there. A   
vixen. She looks like she's in her early twenties and very attractive. She has pale yellow coloured   
fur, shoulder length blond hair and wearing a doctor's coat over a flight suit. She's working at a   
nearby console, I don't think she's noticed that I'm awake. Wait, a young fox just walked in. He's   
also in his early twenties, with reddish fur and a white muzzle.  
  
I can't hear what the two of them are talking about. I don't know why, but something instinctive   
tells me…that I should be afraid, that I'm in danger. I don't know who the young fox is, but I know   
somehow, that he is my enemy.  
  
To be continued…   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
